Facilis descensus Averno
by Hisa-Ai
Summary: Alec would not seek forgiveness for doing what he was born to do. "Oh, well then, if it wasn't important, then surely you wouldn't mind coming back to bed with me?"


**Soooo this was inspired by the song "Heaven" by Kane Brown. Aaand the title** **is the Nephilim's motto, which translates to, "The descent into Hell is easy," which you probs already knew, but whatever.**

* * *

 _Everybody's talking about heaven like they just can't wait to go_  
 _Saying how it's gonna be so good, so beautiful_  
 _Lying next to you, in this bed with you, I ain't convinced_  
 _Cause I don't know how, I don't know how heaven, heaven_  
 _Could be better than this_

* * *

 _Facilis descensus Averno_

* * *

*.*.*.*.*

Alec thought more about Hell than he did about Heaven. That wasn't to say anything about his character—or, well, maybe it did—but as a Shadowhunter, hell was much more prevalent than the opposite. Sure, he had angel blood coursing through his veins, but Hell? Hell was a greater issue, was something that produced more problems than from whence he was descended. And every day he got further and further away from the concept of a Heaven. He was a Shadowhunter, he dwelled and dealt with the shadows, with things that crept and crawled from the very depths of hell. And with his _boyfriend_ a Downworlder…

He was much more comfortable with the concept of one than the other. The descent into Hell, after all, was easy. Getting into Heaven with a track record like Alec's, on the other hand was… much more complicated. He was doing the Angel's work, was protecting the mundanes, the world, from whatever evil that he could, but, some days, some things that he had to do to accomplish it picked at his resolve that he was doing the right thing.

Some days, the descent into Hell was _too_ easy, and he was sure there was no hope at all for him, for any of them. Born of Angel blood, perhaps, but worthy of rejoining the Angels from whence they came when he met his maker on the battlefield one day? Perhaps not.

*.*.*.*.*

They didn't usually watch Mundane television—in fact, Magnus hadn't even _owned_ a television until the previous night when they decided they wanted to partake in "Netflix and Chill," as the mundane youths put it, and he'd snapped a large enough television onto the wall across from his couch. They hadn't been missing much, Alec decided, as kissing Magnus with no background noise was better than trying to filter out whatever God awful show they'd put on. And actually, kissing Magnus with soft, romantic music playing in the background was even better, but at least now they knew they weren't missing out on something by not owning a television set.

It had been snapped off not five minutes into their evening activities, and Magnus had murmured a promise against Alec's neck that he would get rid of the set first thing in the morning, when he had more clarity about him, when he _wasn't_ currently using his long, slender fingers to pull off Alec's clothes.

Which was just as well, Alec thought as he pushed Magnus down onto the bed, having slowly moved from the living room to the bedroom; for the rest of night, it didn't exist to him anymore anyway.

*.*.*.*.*

Whenever Alec awoke before Magnus he would usually lay in bed and just… stare at him, completely and utterly in awe of the beautiful man he got to spend his days and nights with. Sometimes, he would stroke the other's cheek, run his hand through his hair, lean over and kiss him softly and slowly until the warlock woke up and they could revel in each other's embraces until the day had to claim them for their respective duties and responsibilities. Other times, he would somehow or another untangle himself from Magnus' embrace and get himself ready for the day, leaving Magnus to sleep in for a little while longer until he brought him breakfast in bed and they could enjoy each other's company for however long it was allowed until the outside world pulled them away from each other.

But today… Well, _today_ he was curious about the mundane television that was still in the other room. He couldn't help it, truly, it was just… _there_ , and he wanted to at least play around with it for a few moments while it was still there. Just for a few moments, and then he could go back to Magnus and cuddle back up in bed with him and Magnus could disappear the television and they could get on with their morning as usual.

Carefully, he pressed a kiss to Magnus' still sleeping lips and felt him grin at the soft press of lips; even in his sleep, Magnus was still happy to be on the receiving end of Alec's affection and kisses. God, was he _really_ giving up a few precious moments of this to watch the mundane thing? Was he out of his **_mind_**?

The answer, of course, was obvious when he rolled out of bed and softly and slowly made his way to the living room, threw himself down on the couch and curled up with the blanket Magnus kept thrown across the back of it. The world was always so chilled in these early hours if he didn't have Magnus' arms around or under him.

He grabbed for the remote and flipped the tv on, hoping the volume wasn't loud enough to wake his sleeping love up. He really and truly didn't want Magnus to wake up to an empty bed; the thought of dooming him to such a fate painted a frown on Alec's face and almost made him retreat back to the bedroom. Almost, but not quite; he was much too warm under the covers for now to bother with a silly thing like that.

He flipped endlessly and aimless through the channels then, stopping every now and again for a moment or two to see if something would catch his interest.

Nothing ever did.

It was mostly mundanes trying to sell each other stupid things they didn't want or need, in Alec's professional opinion, and some crime fighting cartoons, and monsters, and silly girls trying to win over stupid boys—the straights really _did_ dominate the mundane world, didn't they?—and stupid people doing generally stupid things for no real reason other than to just be, well, stupid.

He was about to give up completely and just go back to bed already—Magnus would be stirring soon anyway, he was sure; he never slept too terribly long, especially not when Alec was gone from the bed; the warlock seemed to have a sense for when the shadowhunter left the room for too long at a time, and couldn't seem to rest when he wasn't there—when he landed on a channel of a bunch of mundanes in a church. He didn't know why it gave him pause, as he didn't _really_ care about the mudanes and their beliefs or religions, so why couldn't he seem to change the channel?

The chapel they were in looked similar to the one they had at the Institute, so he though that might have had something to do with it. The difference, of course, was the plethora of pews, of people sitting, dressed in attire rarely worn at the Institute, and the way the whole room was bathed in a golden sort of color, streaming in from the stain glass windows of figures they held important to them. They bowed their heads in silent prayer as the man at the front of the room, their leader, their whatever he was, said words aloud of Heaven, of healing, of forgiveness, and strength, all the while the other mundanes kept their eyes shut, their hands folded, their faces soft and fragile.

Their world was so, _so_ fragile, he was reminded then, so… vulnerable. Sometimes, all they had to fall back on or hold onto was their faith, their belief in a higher power, in a simpler higher power than the Shadow world had, at times.

 _(Perhaps, they were worth going to hell for.)_

Alec watched, still in a trance, as the mundanes lifted their heads and the man at the front continued preaching about Heaven, about the good things that awaited them in the afterlife, how everything they did now would echo into eternity and they would be awarded for all their suffering, for all their good deeds, for everything. They would be awarded with golden roads and untold pleasures and happiness, with everything their heart could ever desire; in Heaven, there would be angels and family long gone, memories forgotten to pasts that were both known and unknown to them right now. Their heavenly father would be there to greet them as weary sons and daughters coming home. In Heaven, they would find peace, would find, in death, everything that they could never have on earth.

Truly, the best part of living would be to find peace in death, in a wonderful, glorious afterlife that was unknown to the living, their reward for being Good People.

Alec stopped listening after a while. Why, after all, should he pay attention to something he knew he would never have? If such an afterlife truly existed—and Alec had his own theories, but that was neither here nor there—then a God such as that one wouldn't _want_ Alec. The things he did, the person he was… It wasn't the sort that would be allowed into such a peaceful, serene sort of place. Nevermind that he did the things that he did to _protect_ that God's children, because he was not sorry for the things that he did. And from Alec's understanding, these particular mundanes believed one should repent for their sins, should feel sorry, should seek forgiveness, to be rewarded with such an afterlife.

And Alec would not seek forgiveness for doing what he was born to do.

He might have had angel blood coursing through him, but a fallen angel wasn't the sort that was welcomed back into Heaven; he could make peace with that.

He wanted Magnus to wake up, he realized suddenly then, still staring at the television screen. All the colors reminded him of the other and made him ache for his touch, his kiss. He wanted Magnus to wake up and realize the Shadowhunter was missing, and come looking for him, wanted him to pull him from the couch and drag him back to bed, where they would fall apart in each other's arms, fall into soft touches and kisses, caresses and careful words. Alec wanted the world and then some from Magnus. He always did.

Rather than waiting another moment for the warlock to come to him, he flipped off the tv and swung himself up from the couch. He would go back to bed, he decided, and he would not leave it again unless the world started to end.

As his resolve to do as much hardened, his eyes fell to the doorway between the bedroom and the living room, and there stood Magnus himself, disheveled from sleep in the sort of way only Alec was allowed to see, eyes careful and unguarded, watching Alec in a way that made him shiver.

"Morning," Alec said, caught off guard in the best kind of way.

"Where did you go?" Magnus asked in way of greeting, voice a low, whining tease.

Alec's lips quirked up, and he made his way across the room to Magnus, swooped in to press a kiss to his lips. Magnus sighed against the contact as much as Alec did, fingers grazing up the shadowhunter's arm carefully. And Alec couldn't keep the kiss up any longer for the way he was smiling, but he wouldn't have it any other way, he knew as he pulled back and was met with Magnus' own sleepy smile.

"Nowhere important," he replied finally with a shrug.

"Oh, well then, if it wasn't important, then surely you wouldn't mind coming back to bed with me?"

"There's no place I would rather be," Alec replied, taking his fingers and interlacing them with Magnus' before the warlock was pulling him back into the room and into bed.

They laid facing each other, collapsing into the perfect mess of kisses that Alec so craved first thing in the morning; their skin was warm on each other and between the golden sheets of Magnus' bed, and it was…

Perfect. Peaceful. Easy.

How the mundanes could think there was anything anywhere that could compare with _this_ was… absurd. Even if Alec _would_ be allowed in any sort of Heaven after he died… he wasn't sure that he would want any part of it. Nothing could ever hope to recreate the feeling he had right then with Magnus, could never even come _close_ to what he felt whenever he was with him. Any imitations would just fall short, he knew.

If the descent into hell was easy, Alec thought it was worth it, just as long as the whole way down was paved with sheets of gold.

*.*.*.*.*


End file.
